


Angel And The Jerk

by MidgetBanana



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abaddon made him do it, Angst, Blow Jobs, Demon Dean, Human Castiel, Hurt Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Season 9
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-10
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-15 07:26:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1296466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidgetBanana/pseuds/MidgetBanana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"No one could foresee what happened when Abaddon got her hands on Dean. When she slipped her consciousness into him, Castiel thought, it would be ineffective, well it should have been ineffective. His body was marked against possession after all. It was the tiny little detail that slipped from everybody’s notice was their undoing"</p>
<p>In other words everybody's hurt</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> takes place after Season 8 finale where sam magically healed with time and Cas found his way to the bunker. 
> 
> Story behind the event is that Kevin and Charlie get mixed up in a case, Dean and Cas stay behind to stall Abaddon while the others escape. Sam sets Crowley free, in return he finds them Dean and Cas' whereabouts
> 
> I am sorry, truly. I am a very bad person. The work includes rape and PTSD, if you are uncomfortable with any or both of the subjects plase don't read.
> 
> This is my very first fanfiction, thank you for reading

It wasn’t Dean.

It didn’t take an angels vision to look through its soul, to see, to verify.

...

Castiel had heard about the power of the Knights of Hell. He had heard the stories told in Heaven about the terror and fury of the battles that had fought to restrain them. But the tales had long lost in time and after the victory, nobody cared to call upon their ravage…

 

No one could foresee what happened when Abaddon got her hands on Dean. When she slipped her consciousness into him, Castiel thought, it would be ineffective, well it should have been ineffective. His body was marked against possession after all. It was the tiny little detail that slipped from everybody’s notice was their undoing;

First when Castiel got his hands on Dean’s soul in Pit, he was already broken. Even if he had not given in to Alastair, the torture he endured inevitably left many permanent scars which, no matter how hard he tried, were not in Castiel’s power to heal. He had to resort to an alternative method… A bold method. His brothers found it redundant, he was ordered to raise Dean Winchester from Hell and nothing more. Perhaps it was Gabriel’s training kicking in or just his queer nature, Castiel proceeded as he decided upon.

 _Esther was wrong;_ Castiel thought _, he was lost long before he laid hands on Dean, he was lost the moment he was assigned to the mission._

He used bits and pieces from his grace to create some loop holes in Dean's memories. Blurred and dulled the experiences like they were last night's dream...

Of course, leaving a part of himself in a foreign creation was inconvenient at its best but it was also oddly satisfying. He felt like a saviour, like a shepherd, like what he was meant to be. He felt he did the right thing…

His grace was what Abaddon ripped through. Dean was left vulnerable and stained, every bit of memory finding their way to his head as clear as water; every pain he endured, every pain he inflicted... The _pleasure_ of it.

One minute a scream broke its way through his lungs, he curled in the floor like a child and next he was gone, he rose as something else, something inhuman and if Castiel still had his wings, they would have shivered when it first rest its pitch black gaze on him.

...

It was humming something familiar, Castiel couldn't quite recall but he heard it on the Impala before, wasn't one of Dean's favourites but he still had sung along that time. If his heavy panting didn't mix with the echoes in the abandoned warehouse, he would have remembered it was 'Fear of The Dark' when it got to the chorus.

Dean used to hum similar songs when he occupied himself with daily chores. He found tending to Impala the most pleasurable, he would spend hours and hours with her without doing any noticeable change. He also seemed to be enjoying himself while cooking, even though he rarely made anything other than hamburger.

He tried to remember what Dean was humming the yesterday morning. He could remember Sam making fun of its lyrics and Dean seemed strangely embarrassed...

Pain was dulling his memory as well as his senses. One of many things he loathed about being human was this. Before, he could force his mind away, to a calmer place, but now he was forced to be conscious wholly, bound to a single place and a single time. He wanted to shout or cry but his jaw was shut tightly, were it wouldn't be a minor pain in his condition he could feel his teeth starting to ache.

It was hours, maybe days then finally he felt the absence of hot iron on his back not to be replaced. The calm sense didn’t last long, the burn was spreading from his trapezius to whole body.

Torturer took a few steps back to take a moment to appreciate its handiwork and traced its fingers on seared flesh of his back. Castiel whimpered at the touch. He couldn't see but he made out that it was branding something, probably wings, to his shoulderblades. Was it to mock him or to amuse itself, Castiel didn't know. Humans used branding since the days of slavery, they felt the need to mark their property.

Creature then grabbed him by the jaw, forcing his head back and whispered, “wιll yoυ noт cry ғor мe, angel? wιll yoυ noт вeg?” voice gave him shivers as it brushed his ear

He would answer, or try to, but it was _his_ voice. It wasn’t his accent or his manner of speech, but it _was_ his voice.

When he closed his eyes he could pretend that it was what it was, a demon. He could hate and despise it, throw insults at it… But all this little things; like the faint scent of beer in its breath, roughness in its voice, rustling of his leather jacket as it moved, all this little things he was all-too-familiar with… All he could do was to swallow a deep breath.

The creature was facing him now. Castiel knew he couldn’t irritate it with staying silent. It didn’t really care what Castiel would say, it just wanted him bleeding and bruised.

The incoming blow was expected. But he no longer had any strength to keep his head up, to face it or to spit the mouthful of blood, so it just dripped down to floor from his lips in a long line mixed with saliva.

Demon cut down the bindings in his right wrist in a swift movement which left Castiel oddly hanging with only his left hand bound to ceiling. With all his body’s weight now laid to one arm, he would feel his muscles stressing in pain but he barely had any sensation left in his body anymore. He was just a dead piece of meat hanging down the ceiling.

But clearly the scene amused the demon, it took a second to observe and appreciate what it made of the once mighty angel of the lord.

“ít's σdd чσu knσw, í kєєp cαllíng чσu ‘αngєl’-”

Then he cut off the remaining binding.

Free from its bound, his body landed harshly to the little blood pool on the floor. He tried to use his hands to balance the fall but instead they lied motionless as his cheek hit the ground.

“єvєn thσ' чσu αrє thís...” it poked his head with its boots then as he struggled to rise off the ground enough to breath “…υѕeleѕѕ pιece oғ ғleѕн and вoneѕ.” He stepped on his shoulder and force his head down. Friction on his back made his fresh wounds scream in pain.

After lingering around for a while, just enough to give Castiel a little time to adjust his muscles again, demon kneeled down beside him and fisted his scalp to force his head up to its eye level.

They were _his_ eyes. Castiel still desperately searched for what little he hoped had left of the man he would die for… _Eyes are the windows to the soul…_

The eyes as empty as a wind in purgatory and that’s green which could just as easily get invaded by the faint vacancy of black.

“αнн …” he breathed with a smile “‘ _Baby in a trenchcoat_ ’”

Quote made Castiel sick. They weren’t its words, they weren’t its words to think, they weren’t its words to voice, they weren’t its words to use.

“Don’t you- don’t you dare...” he tried to spat

“don'т ι- don'т ι dare wнaт?” he let down his grasp and Castiel, once again, landed face flat on the floor.

“yoυ realιze ι aм noт a тreѕpaѕѕer, rιgнт?"

Castiel was aware. He was aware of the process of demonization, he was aware what it entailed. He watched demons for far too long, and humanity even longer.

"ι aм нιм. ι own нιѕ мeмorιeѕ jυѕт aѕ well aѕ нιѕ вody."

 

Dean Winchester was too far gone when he got to him in pit, he recall, he was pathetic. Castiel looked down to his soul and thought ‘this is the righteous man?’

What would shine as powerful as a nuclear reactor was just a thin ray of light, it was so small that Castiel honestly thought he was too late.

He remembered now, that was his probably first –of many- surprises with the Winchesters. As he reached to his soul it reacted back, it clung to Castiel’s grace like it somehow belonged there. Souls, especially the ones in hell, are not meant to do that, they are meant to resist, they are meant to stay away from forces who could feed on them, forces like angels and demons. However Dean Winchester’s soul didn’t, weak and beaten as it was, it still responded to Castiel’s reach. It was the first soul Castiel ever touched and he could still feel the ecstasy when he played the memory in his mind. Castiel would give everything to feel it clinging to him, sense the concentrated power permit him to grasp its warm light in his fingers just one last time. If only Dean could’ve feel what he had felt, he would understand Cas’ certainty when he said that he deserved to be saved.

But now looking through the pinch black eyes of the demon he wished, god, he wished so bad he could have just a little bit of his grace. He wished to know if there was a light, even the faintest, he could see leaking.

“тнe тranѕғorмaтιon ιѕ noт coмpleтe” the demon confirmed then,

“yeт”

Demon was smiling with Dean Winchesters face, it was laughing, mocking…

“What do you want?” he breathed out as he managed to get back to his knees, he was looking directly at the demon now. He know the drill.

“ι jυѕт wanт yoυr oвedιence, angel, тнaтѕ all.”

“тнo’ wнaт ι'м plannιng тo do neхт нardly reqυιreѕ ιт”

It stroked his cheek and grabbed his chin, tilting his head up to make their eyes meet.

"ғor тoo long ι нave wondered нow yoυr lιpѕ woυld ғeel lιĸe aroυnd мy cocĸ..." as he lead his gaze down to his lips it added "oғ coυrѕe тнe coward ι waѕ woυld never acт on ιт"

It teased the newly forming bruise on his cheek with its thumb

“ι ĸnow yoυ enoυgн тo ĸnow yoυ woυldn'т do anyтнιng тo daмage тнιѕ вody” it continued with a malevolent smirk on its face, undid its belt with his free hand

“…even aт тнιѕ ѕтaтe”

It unzipped the jeans and they fell to its knee.

The hand on Castiel’s chin moved back to his nape and pushed his head to position

“yoυ ĸnow wнaт тo do”

Was Dean there? Was he aware of what Castiel was about to do? Would he loathe him for it?

He pulled Dean’s briefs down, which left a little trace of blood on its leg.

It was true that his new humanly sensations gave him needs he couldn’t understand but his appreciation for Dean had never solely been on physical level. He knew Dean was considered attractive by human standards and even if he was not, as he did to all of Lord’s creations, he loved him. No, he was commanded to love him, to love all of them, to love them as he loved his father, and he obeyed. But since he rebelled, or it would be more accurate to say, since he first laid hands on Dean’s soul in pit, he was no longer obliged to carry on the orders of an absent father.

He loved them even then, not as a responsibility, it was different, it was very new for him.

Sam believed in him even when he was far gone, he forgave him after what he did. Bobby trusted him enough to let him touch his soul and back when he had all of his powers he treated him as one of his boys, scolded him, praised him. All the other people, whom he did not understand, with their alien customs still somehow accepted him, so easily… Friends.

And Dean-

The little movement of the fingers on his nape brought him back. He tried to remember the babysitter’s actions. He licked his lips, his mouth was dry except the blood but he assumed it would hardly bother the demon.

It was already half-hard when he slowly slipped the head in his mouth, he circled his tongue around it and pulled just enough to suck the precome leaking on the tip. The action earned him a moan

_It is not Dean_

He desperately reminded himself

_It is not his voice_

The free hand slowly stroked through his hair and pulled him away, it looked at him, with Dean’s eyes, and arranged its cock to rest on his lower lip. He had barely parted his lips enough when it pushed in until his nose was brushing its pubic hair.

“yoυ can gag all yoυ wanт, angel, we вoтн ĸnow yoυ нave noтнιng тo pυĸe” and guided his head back enough to push it all the way in again.

Castiel couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think, he felt the pain of sensitive flesh tearing each time the tip hit the back of his throat. He was trying to inhale little bit of air but he couldn’t synchronize with its movements.

His vision blurred and few drops of tear made its way down his cheek. He was choking and gagging and if he had a little control left over his legs or arms he would try to push away.

It took 5 minutes or an eternity until the Demon’s movements became erratic and it spurt its seed deep down his throat. He pulled out leaving a stain of cum over his tongue and lips.

Soon as tight grip on his head left, his head fall to the ground, he hysterically coughed everything until he felt he could breathe again.

Demon pulled his head again, gestured him to look up, he tried to comply as he was still gasping for air. It traced its thump along his lower lip, spreading the blood and cum along his chin

“oн, нow тнe мιgнтy нas ғallen”

He was a mockery of his lost grace, here, on his knees, pleasuring a Demon who wore the body of his best friend.

Alas, it was better this way. More suiting end.

He was conscious when his mind was poisoned by power, he remembered perfectly clear all the pain he inflicted to his friends, a little child playing god… He also remembered killing Dean over and over again. At first he resisted, hesitated and broke him down until he was as good as dead but after the 100th he just wanted it to be over as fast as possible.

If Dean was truly gone now, if he wouldn’t be aware of anything, then Castiel was content. This Demon could do anything it wanted to him, after all, as it said, he was just flesh and bones.

“ι wanт тo ѕнow yoυ-” it petted his head

“нow good ιт ғeelѕ, angel”

He genuinely didn’t bother listening, or understanding. If it wasn’t a command, he would just look into the nothing on the ground. It most likely said something more, just as unimportant.

It slowly made its way right behind him. He caught off guard when it pushed his shoulder to the ground, placing itself on top of him.

Castiel didn’t really know what to expect, what it was meaning to do. His eyes caught a glimpse of its fingers on the ground wetting themselves with blood. Then a hand pushed his pants down.

He didn’t have time to feel ashamed of his body getting exposed in such manner when two fingers harshly pushed passed his rim.

A barely audible scream tore out of his lips as his body tensed with the intrusion.

It worked its fingers in and out a few times until it found what it was looking for. It touched something that sent bolts of pleasure straight to Castiel’s cock. He desperately arched back to the touch, it toyed with the spot a little, scissoring its fingers and causing him to bite down his moans before pulling them out and wetting them with blood again.

It was murmuring something to itself, something about how slutty Castiel was being and how he craved for its cock…

It was probably not so far from the truth, either. Something in Castiel’s body, despite his despicable state, disgustingly wanted the friction. When its hand leaned down to stroke his erection, he wanted to thrust into it. He didn’t know sexual pleasure felt like this, people he observed always looked more control in their instincts, perhaps they had more experience… his body was behaving incoherently.

It placed itself and arranged the tip of its cock to his entrance. He tried to take a deep breath, and relax. It was apparently easier in theory because all he could do was to shout out that breath as it started to push in.

For few minutes, all he could feel was pain, it wasn’t dulling, he kept trying to breathe, that’s what Dean had told him to do when he was in pain, _breathe slowly and try to relax,_ he had said as he had taken the knife out of his arm. It had been his first hunt as a human, and frankly it didn’t go so well, he had gotten stabbed by a ghost and though he had experienced small bruises caused by clumsiness, he had never before got any serious wounds. It hurt, it hurt so physically, so solid… It was all so unfamiliar.

This new sensation was unfamiliar also, he was already starting to feel heat of pleasure mixing with pain when it once again found that spot.

Castiel could practically sense the hideous smirk of the monster while it made him come undone. He was so close… So close to something he didn’t know. He was scared. Demon no doubt noticed him moving his body desperately trying to match every movement he can.

Then it stopped.

It didn’t pull out but its touch was gone from his body. Castiel swallowed his whimper of the loss.

 

 

“God, Cas.” A very familiar voice breathed out.

 

A gentle hand moved from his shoulder to hipbone and lips traced the abused flesh of his shoulderblade, making their way to the nape and nipping the skin.

“You look so beautiful-” The voice continued, then lips occupied themselves with the bruises, kissing them softly, not hard enough to hurt “-So fucking beautiful”

It started moving again, slowly this time, hitting his prostate with every thrust. It caressed his skin, gently massaging the muscles on his back with his fingers

Castiel couldn’t… He couldn’t do it… He could bear with pain, humiliation, but this, this was too much. What little left of his self-control abandoned him as he let out a loud sob, burying his head to the ground. “Please… Please stop” he begged. He didn’t give a fuck anymore, he didn’t want this, anything but this. But he couldn’t manage to say anything but a few muffled syllables mixed with sobs _. Don’t make me feel like this_ he wanted to say _Don’t make me feel as if he’d do this to me._

He wondered, he don’t remember for how long, how Dean made love to his partners. If he was kind to them, if he was demanding… What did he enjoyed them to do, what did he do to them that they liked?

He greedily desired Dean’s affection and if all he could give was a brotherly one, it was fine, he’d take what he could get. However, right here, right now, if he could just let himself slip through the fantasy that it is his hands caressing him, his voice roughly groaning with each thrust… He would let the sweet delusion take over him

“Dean…”

The name unintentionally pierced its way out of his lips. It was like an instinct, he couldn’t stop repeating it

The man placed his hand on Cas’, over his knuckles, which had gone white and nails bloodied from scratching the concrete. He petted his shoulder with his other hand,

“Shhh… It’s okay Cas, let it go. I got you.”

And after few more thrusts, Cas’ orgasm took him, he came as the man softly whispered reassurances to him. He collapsed, boneless to the ground, he was still sobbing but his tears had already run dry. The hands have left his body, one of them tangled with his hair and pushed him up

The creature quickened back to its violent pace “нow doeѕ ιт ғeel тo ĸnow, angel” he licked blood off of his jaw “тнaт ιn тнe end, нe waѕ тнe one wнo вroĸe yoυ”

It fucked Castiel for less than a minute and came deep in him. It got on its feet and pulled its jeans back up.

Castiel just lied there, it’s not as if he could do anything else. He had absently fixed his glance on the little drop of blood going down on his hand, he saw its feet entering to his vision but he couldn’t react,

 

Everything just went… incredibly black and empty.


	2. Chapter 2

Dim light was flickering above him, his eyelids hurt when he forced them apart. He tried to sit up, rub his eyes to adjust to light, observe his surrounding but his whole body screamed in pain when he attempted to use it. He idly stared at the ceiling, tilted his head a little to notice, _Man of Letters Headquarters._

He was resting on a mattress brought to living room, his naked body was covered with a thin blanket. There were various first aid materials and dozens of bloodied rags lying about. Like someone shuffled through the entire kit and didn’t bother cleaning up after. Scene reminded him of the first time he had to treat a wound, without his mojo;

 

They had split into two groups, Sam was going after the summoned curse and Dean and he were going to get the witch. Things got sideways and witch somehow managed to shoot Dean on the shoulder. Cas succeeded on getting them to the agreed location but by that time Dean had already lost much blood and he was seemingly getting dizzy. He slowly lowered him to ground and rested his back on the wall. He helped him off his jacket and shirt and if sticking of blood hurt him, he didn’t look any more pained than he already was.

Cas stared at the wound, barely visible with all the blood flowing. He realized he never observed how they treat it before, he would just pass on a little power of his grace and they would be healed.

“What am I suppose to do?” he didn’t leave his stare off the wound “Tell me-Tell me what to do.”

Dean swallowed a breath

“Fabric… A clean fabric to clean the wound” he managed.

Cas complied, he wetted a piece of rag resting near the sink, and started cleaning the wound. It was a lost cause, the blood kept flowing with every motion of his chest rising and falling. The little piece of fabric was already soaked with it and he could feel himself trembling a little. His breathing were quickening, it wasn’t a good sign, he couldn’t fall apart now, not when his assistance was needed.

“Don’t panic.” Dean cut in. He placed a hand on his shoulder and shook him lightly “Cas, look at me. Calm down. Clean it enough to see the wound.”

Cas could already see the entrance wound, rag slipped from his hands, when he tried to lean down to take it back, grip on his shoulder tightened. “You listening to me, man? Calm down Cas, your hands better not shake for what you’re about to do.” Cas sucked in a breath, met his gaze and nodded.

“-There is a knife on my jacket’s left pocket, disinfect it with fire- took the fucking bullet out.” His last words muffled in his mouth.

Cas did as he was told. He found the bullet in his first try. He assumed he’s rather be sloppy and quick about than taking any more time to listen Dean hissing in pain.

Dean sighed in relief when the bullet hit the floor, but he kept his tight grasp on Cas’ coat. He stood there beside him for a while, putting pressure to Dean’s wound. He didn’t understand, the scent of blood never bothered him before, but he didn’t pull away, not as long as Dean kept holding onto him.

After a little while Dean regained his senses and let him go, patted his shoulder “Congratulations on your first panic attack” he joked “thanks” and rested his head on the wall, smiling a little. What did he find amusing in this situation, Cas didn’t know. He slid next to Dean and rested there until Sam came.

 

 

He managed to sit up on bed. His back was aching and an unnatural pain had taken his lungs. Water. _Water_ … He needed water. He tried to get to his feet but the collapsed on the floor dragging some of the materials with him.

Sam dashed in the room “Cas?” he pulled Cas up in a single movement, helping him lean on him for support “…water…” he barely hissed. Sam lowered him back to bed and returned with a bottle of water. Cas clumsily wasted half of it while drinking but he was in no condition to care. Sam stood next to him, watching him with his concerned stare.

“Dean-” Cas dropped the bottle, things were coming back to him “Where is Dean?!”

Sam placed his hand on Cas’ chest, keeping him in position when he attempted to get up again.

“Cas, it’s okay, give it a second, man. You’ve been out for a while, scars on your back are barely stopped bleeding, don’t do anything rush. How’re you feeling?”

“My back hurts and…" he tried to think "...I don’t know Sam…”

“Okay, it’s okay… look, some kind of enochian sigil is carved on your chest, is it something dangerous?”

Cas looked down to his chest, he could barely read it upside down but he knew what it was. He choked in a smile

“Zizop doalim” he read “flesh of sin, the most roughly translation would be… ‘whore’”

It was a suitable insult for his condition “So, no, it is not dangerous.”

“Okay” Sam said after a while, he looked even more troubled now. “Look, Cas… Dean is on the dungeon. Kevin and I have been thinking, we already know the cure--”

“It may not be possible.” He cut in.

“Yeah we get that. He and I’ve been trying but no cue.”

“You are his brother and Kevin is the prophet of god, it is most likely that neither of your blood can be used in such manner.”

“But yours can, right?”

“It is a possibility that my blood can never be purified, I was the last rite.”

“Last rite?”

Sam looked younger, under the flickering dim light, he looked like when Castiel had first contacted them. Before he let Lucifer loose, before he took the rituals to close the gates of hell. One thing years had failed to change was that determination lying under the worn out face. After everything that happened it was still impossible for a Winchester brother to let go of the other. Castiel envied them. And pitied them at the same time…

But Sam had to understand, he had to be prepared to let go

“It had to be me or you,” Cas said “What do you think will happen to Dean now if he gets cured, he’ll remember everything he did to me” he’s voice turned a little hysteric “He barely left his experiences from pit behind, Sam, his soul will be torn”

Another long silence took the room, Sam lowered his stare to the floor

“Okay... But if there is something, anything we can do… I can’t leave him like this Cas, you know I can’t. I need to try, he would do this for me, hell, he already have”

“And look what it did to you” Cas spat rather bluntly

 

Sam had no counter argument, he had no other option either. Cas knew, if he could, he would take the blood by force. Not that Cas believed his blood would be any good…

 

But he wasn’t quite ready to let go either.

“If it works, if he gets cured…” he still had trouble putting the words together “and in his right mind asks for it...” he didn’t know how to complete the sentence, he wanted to say that he’d kill him but he also knew he couldn’t, it was simply not an option open for Cas.

Sam was too exhausted to argue, he helped him on his feet and in some clothes, Cas stumbled a little on the stairs but his ache was dulling.

He sat on that narrow space, he thought, he existed for millennias, everything he had done, with or without Naomi’s influence… Where would he start? Even when he knew no one was listening, who would he confess to?…

“Dad…” it was such a casual way to address to his father, apparently he was getting affected by humans more than he believed

“I do not regret the things I had done to protect him.”

“I regret being weak, I regret being naïve and believing that somehow I had the power to fix things.”

All of the thing he could tell to his father, creator, but he only desired the forgiveness of the people he had hurt most.

He created him, shaped him as he is, did he want Cas to cause pain, did he want him where he was now?

“I am sorry for failing them, failing us, you, for whatever reason you kept me alive.”

Did he enjoy watching him screw things up?

“I know, I have greatly shamed my grace by my actions and if you find it in yourself to forgive me… Please father, I beg of you, I don’t have the luxury to fail this time”

 

When the door of the dungeon opened, demon was standing under a binding sigil, tied to a chair with carved shackles. There were equipment but it was obvious no one could find it in themselves to torture it.

“тнe ѕlυт reтυrnѕ…” it chuckled

“coмe вacĸ ғor мore, нave yoυ?”

Cas ignored the implication. He reached for the injector standing on the pile.

“eaѕy, angel. yoυ don'т wanna daмage тнe goodѕ” Demon hissed when Castiel injected the first shot of his blood

The transformation would be visible from now on, Dean would slowly sink into awareness of his actions. It would destroy him…

The Demon laughed “yoυ can'т do anyтнιng”

“yoυ are тoo laтe, вoyѕ, нe ιѕ noт ѕтrong enoυgн тo ѕυrvιve wιтнoυт мe”

“Well he is _not_ surviving with you” Sam spat.

“yoυr call, _little brother”_

Sam tensed and clenched his fist. But he remained still

“Sam, leave.”

“What?”

“It can manipulate you, the process will be… difficult and you are a liability.” Cas had always been bad at lying, it wasn’t a shocker when Sam uncovered him.

“Cas! Stop playing with words, shoot”

“Its condition is rather different-”

“Yeah?”

“Since it’s bound to his mortal body, chances are he’ll be dead if- …when the demonization is cured”

“yoυ вeт yoυr angel aѕѕ нe'll вe dead. ι aм тнe only тнιng ĸeepιng нιм alιve”

“Silence!” Cas growled. “He’d rather be dead than having his existence bound to you”

“нe won'т gιve yoυ wнaт yoυ wanт, yoυ ĸnow нe won'т! ι can!”

Cas grabbed it by the neck, forced it to his gaze. Took pleasure in his fingers dipping at its flesh

“What I desire…” he took a moment to find the right words “is not from you”

The confession in his own voice surprised him, how dare it spoke as if there was anything it could give. It was just an abomination bearing a familiar face. Cas was above such simple pleasures. His flesh might have turn mortal now but he had the knowledge of thousands of ages yet in his soul. It was pitiful and truly desperate for attempting to tempt him with lust.

“You finish the ritual, nice and clean. Make Dean…” Sam gestured the demon “Dean again”

Faltering was pointless, Sam nodded and slowly left the room. Cas didn't say but he also didn't want Sam to experience his brother dreading himself in such a pitiful state.

 

Not until the third shot did it started to show signs of recovery, Cas' blood was working, after all.

"yoυ reмeмвer тнaт тιмe yoυ вeaт мe тo deaтн over a pιece oғ ѕтone?"

Castiel would rather nothing more than to not to do this, especially not when Dean wasn't... Dean. He did answer, nevertheless.

"It was The Angel Tablet. And, yes, I remember."

"'ι'м ѕorry deanny-вaвy'" demon mimicked Castiel's voice "тнaт oυgнттa do ιт, ιт'ѕ noт lιĸe ι cнoѕe a ғυcĸιng rocĸ over yoυ or ѕoмeтнιng!"

"I apologized numerous times, I'm sorry that wasn't enough." Cas breathed out, but kept his voice firm.

"do yoυ ever noт ғυcĸ ѕнιт υp, caѕ?" demon chuckled "ι мean ι нad тнeѕe вeaυтιғυl ғanтaѕy, yoυ ĸnow?" it then proceeded without waiting for a reply “вeғore yoυ ғυcĸed ιт υp”

"вυт oғ coυrѕe yoυ do. yoυ were тнere, weren'т yoυ? waтcнιng мe."

Cas realized it was referring to the time Dean spent at Lisa's.

It must've noticed the pained look on Castiel's face because he continued with a grin.

"leт'ѕ нave a cнecĸ-тнroυgн, ѕнall we?"

"leттιng ѕaм looѕe тo ғree тнe lυcιғer, cнecĸ"

"вrιngιng ѕaм ѕoυlleѕѕ..."     "cнecĸ"

"тeaмιng υp wιтн тнe ĸιng oғ нell тo eaт pυrgaтory, cнecĸ"

"тнen decιdιng тo тaĸe тнeм all ғor yoυrѕelғ and rυnnιng a crazy raмparт aвoυт yoυr ѕelғ eѕтeeм... cнecĸ and cнecĸ"

"eхplodιng, playιng нoυѕe wιтн a нoly vιrgιn wнιle levιaтнan мade earтн тнeιr playgroυnd, тнanĸѕ тo yoυ, oғ coυrѕe..."

"goιng нιppιe... yoυ ѕee ι can conтιnυe тнιѕ lιѕт ғorever endιng wιтн yoυ вanιѕнιng yoυr enтιre ғaмιly down тo earтн, вecaυѕe apparenтly deѕтroyιng нeaven waѕn'т enoυgн ғor yoυ, and тнey'd all вe cнecĸѕ-"

"That's quite unnecessary, I am already aware of my past actions."

It marked blatantly "oн, тнaт ѕo? тнen yoυ are ѕιмply ѕтυpιd. вecaυѕe ι can'т тнιnĸ oғ any oтнer eхplanaтιon wнy yoυ ĸeep on doιng тнe ѕaмe мιѕтaĸeѕ" its voice took a sharp turn "and wнo ѕυғғerѕ тнe conѕeqυenceѕ, caѕ? wнen yoυ geт нιgн on pυrgaтory ѕoυlѕ or go вaтѕнιт crazy over a вraιn ѕυrgery, wнo payѕ ғor yoυ мιѕтaĸeѕ?!" It was trashing in its bindings.

Cas would apologize again, but he knew his words would sound hollow

It snorted "one тιмe ın pυrgaтory yoυ acтυally dιd ѕoмeтнιng rιgнт and leт go... вυт oғ coυrѕe тнaт naoмι вιтcн нad тo вrιng yoυ вacĸ."

...

After the fourth doze it was observably coping with its transformation. It felt silent for too long until a realization hit its face

"...I remember you." it said, looking shocked, like it was its first time seeing Cas. "I saw you" it added but then left unsatisfied with its elaboration and felt the need to correct "The real you".

Its gaze fell back to the wall behind him "Pure light, so fucking blinding but I couldn't look away..." it swallowed a sob and let a few tears roll down from his eyes "You should have left me there"

Cas knew, when it said that, it was letting up years of guilt. Dean never identified himself as ‘The Righteous Man’ nor did he ever truly believed he deserved to be out.

Aside from what destiny had forced upon him, Dean was a good man, he was a kind man and that’s coming from a creature spent his lifetime watching humans.

It bit its lower lip and barely breathed out "Oh god... What have I done..."

When Cas hit it with the last shot and completed the ritual, he stood close to observe as the last remnants of blackness left Dean's eyes. He let the injector fall to floor, sank to his knees and wrapped his arms around the human. He knew what would come next. Dean nuzzled his face on Cas' hair and Cas wasn't surprised when he whimpered pleads of death.

“I wouldn’t dare” he said after a while “It’s Tuesday, you said you’d feed anybody who prevents you from watching Dr. Sexy’s season finale to hellhounds.”

He wanted to believe that the next sound came from Dean’s mouth was a chuckle, even though it might just as well be another sob.

He gently released him from his bounds and left the dungeon. Ache of his wounds were overwhelming and he feared he would slip out of consciousness any moment now.

Sam was waiting just outside and soon as Cas got out, he barged in.

 

He threw himself on the mattress, cheeks pressed to the soft surface of it, smelled like blood and medicine. A sickening scent.


	3. Chapter 3

He dreamt of chalk white eyes and cold touches, it wasn’t his memories, he presumed…

Somewhere in the depths of his mind, he could gather phantom voices

“Jesus… He is burning…”

“…should take him… hospital…”

“…ice patch or something…”

He really felt like burning all over but he struggled to find his voice to protest _, no ice._ It was as if his body was six feet under the snow, frozen and inanimate.

But the voices slowly fainted…

…

_Nobody cares that you’re broken, Cas!_

_…_

“…Cas… what is it…. Talk to me…”

He tried, he really did. Was he still conscious or was it another hallucination? Whose voice was it? It sounded awfully familiar…

“It’s okay… We’re here…” a hand pushed his forehead down, it pierced down his skull with a suffocating breeze his muscled clenched under the touch. This time when he managed to scream his eyes shot open.

It was too bright for a second, he couldn’t stop the ring in his ears. He rubbed his eyes for a while. When he decided to look around they had barely adjusted to the light.

Four figures were visible, two in the background were most likely Charlie and Kevin, if his blurry vision was anything to go by. Sam was standing awkwardly with the bowl of water in his hands and Dean was closest, he was sitting right beside him with his hands clenched on the edge of the mattress like his life depended on it, in a closer notice, his eyes were swelled and red, look on his face was fear mixed with something Cas couldn’t quite make out.

He waited for the tension on Dean’s shoulders to ease, he didn’t say anything, didn’t leave his gaze, if anything, he was so glad that he could see them in their natural green again.

When he move to stand a little more uprightly, switching the weight of his upper body to rest on his arms, the blanket slide and exposed his torso. Charlie closed her hands around her mouth and tried to hide the pained gasp.

Castiel wasn’t sure what would be the appropriate thing to say in a moment like that, he didn’t want her to feel sorry for him. “It’s okay…” he began “they aren’t deep enough to leave permanent scars.” He then looked back to Dean, who was now in the far side of room, picking up bandages and rags off the floor.

He watched as his stance tensed again when he called for him

“How do you feel?”

As if his words were pure poison, in a brief second, Dean went furious, threw everything he was holding to ground and barked “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?” and left the room in a rush, slamming the door behind. Sam shot an apologetic look to Cas and followed his brother.

Walls weren’t thick enough, the rage soaked voice easily made its way to the suffocating silence in the room.

“--NO, FUCK THIS! SON OF A BITCH GOT TORTURED AND ABUSED, BY ME, AND THE FIRST THING HE ASKES IS ‘HOW THE FUCK I FEEL’?!”

Sam said something that couldn’t be heard, something got shattered.

Kevin now took the job of cleaning up and Charlie cleared her throat abruptly “Can I get you something?”

“I would very much like alcohol”

She leaned to comply then turned “I probably shouldn’t, I don’t know what health potion you’re on but it might cause some nasty complications.”

“Coffee, plain”

“Ay, ay, keptin.” She mimicked a military salute and left.

The shouting continued, Sam’s voice would occasionally rise, signing that he was losing his patience.

“Whoa, who made Kirk fly off the handle?”

Castiel didn’t understand that reference, he grabbed the cup handed to him

Charlie sat where Dean used to be.

“A Wonderful Guy…” he mumbled to himself. Charlie’s attention turned to him, he didn’t realize his voice was loud enough for her to hear “…the name of the song Dean was humming the other day, I was trying to remember.”

“That’s gay, even for him.”

“That’s what Sam said.”

Edges of Charlie’s mouth curved upwards but it was hardly a smile.

“You gave us quite a scare back there.”

“It was not my intention.”

“No! No I didn’t mean it like that- it’s… back there… You were buying us time, right? Thank you.”

“You are welcome.”

Thankfully brothers entered the room, Castiel didn’t know how longer he could keep up this conversation.

“So get this…” Sam began, pulled Dean’s shirt a little. Dean also seemed calmer. He stripped the shirt off and exposed his shoulder, which bore a familiar mark of Castiel’s hand.

“Didn’t know you were into that stuff” Charlie remarked jokingly

Sam explained, “It’s Castiel’s…”

“Oh. Awkward.”

“The question is why it’s back.” Dean cut in

 _This is good_ Castiel thought, and apparently voiced because all eyes were now turned to him. “The grace I left in you seems to be regenerating itself. You will be back to your old self in no time.” He tried to smile but it didn’t have the desired effect.

“You mean…” Dean gestured his head

“Yes, your memories will be restrained, as they were before.”

“That’s a good thing, right?” Kevin asked after a little while of silence

It indeed was good, so why were there a fraction of sorrow resting on Dean’s lines. He knew that look only too well.

Dean mumbled an unconvincing _Yeah_ and left saying he’ll grab something to eat and give a ride to Kevin and Charlie.

After they left, Sam stayed at his side. Cas knew that even tho’ he wasn’t expected to talk, Sam was there to listen if he decided otherwise.

“Who is Kirk?”

“He is… uhm… a character from the TV series called Star Trek. He is sort of the captain of a spaceship.”

Sam somehow looked less worried, now. “Where did that come from?”

“Charlie referred to Dean as Kirk”

“Oh, yeah, she does that.” he laughed “She calls you Spock.”

“I have heard of the ‘Spock’, Dean called me by that name once.”

“I’m not surprised” he drifted his attention back to his laptop so Cas assumed the conversation was over…

 

He let his mind drift in the voice of rain outside, in few hours, Sam dozed off in the sofa, it was obvious he was extremely exhausted.

He decided to take this chance to stretch his muscles a little, which was probably a bad idea, considering the pain it earned him. But he got on his feet and moved to the door. Because he didn’t want to be here anymore, all these little boxes humans build to shelter themselves from each other… He wanted to be the sky, reaching everywhere, bigger than time.

His feet brushed the wet dirt, he looked up to the clouds where he once called home, closed his eyes and opened his arms, as far as they would go, it reminded him of his wings. Aching of the brandings on his back evoked the pleasant memory of flexing them after a long and hard day.

“CAS!”

He must’ve zoned out because he didn’t realize the engine of Impala until it stopped just few inches from him.

“What the fuck are you doing playing titanic in the middle of the fucking road?” Dean jumped off. He wasn’t angry anymore, he just looked concerned as he fought his way to Cas through the mud.

Cas let his body back its normal stance “Hello Dean.”

“Are you alright?” he raised a hand to touch Cas’ shoulder but he didn’t and his arm stood awkwardly midair. It was understandable that he refrained from physical contact, considering the things that have happened.

“I am well. I wanted to get some air”

Dean opened his mouth to protest then waved his arms in frustration and jumped at the hood of Impala, gestured Cas to sat beside him. He obliged and when he turned Dean swore to the sight of the scars. Cas himself haven’t seen them yet but he didn’t want to ask anyone of their shape. He gingerly traced a hand over the carving on his torso, it was scabbing already.

Much to his surprise, Dean was the one who broke the silence

“I don’t want to forget…” then he noticed that he just said it out loud “Shit. I—“

“Speak to me.” Castiel said, just like Dean offered him many times before.

He took a deep breath, likely arranging the words in his head “I remember you, Cas… Yeah, it was beyond my comprehension or some shit but it was… Hell, I don’t have an adjective for it… It was angelic and bright and it felt, I don’t know, very warm, like seeing your brother still alive and hugging him so tight that he can’t breathe kind of warm… and it just makes all the other memories less… insufferable.”

So Dean knew what he looked like before, it didn’t matter any longer anyhow, he was this vessel now. He had let go of that bright light and so should Dean.

Cas let his gaze linger over the mark he left on Dean’s body, he wished he could heal it again, it looked excrescent.

“What shape are the brandings?” He asked lowly, though he instantly wished he hadn’t. Dean didn’t want to think about that and he absolutely didn’t want to hear about it from Cas’ mouth “I’m sorry, forget about i—“

“Wings. Identical, on each shoulderblade reaching to your lower back.”

“I thought as much…” he looked up again, unsure whether to tell what he was about to or not. As if he could have all the answers up above, as if his eyes could reach heavens again once more… What difference would it make anyway? He would just be looking at the deserted void he helped create. “I thought about showing my wings to you… I never showed them to a human.”

“Like-Like your true form, eye-burning light kind of wings?”

“No, the physical manifestation of them.”

“You can do that? How come we never saw heavens glory squad winged up? I mean huge wings would surely help kick some ass.”

“They wouldn’t, actually. They are very fragile and usually kept private. Angels believe humans not worthy of such honour. Nor reliable.”

“So you wrap them up, no one ever sees them?”

“Only one I know of was the human Daniel fell for, and I slayed their offsp-…daughter.”

“The Nephilim.”

“Yes.”

“What did that Daniel guy did exactly? Wiggled his wings, banged a chick?”

Another line of figurative expressions Cas didn’t fully understand but sensed to be rude.

“He was assigned on earth, to guide humans on the ways of sun. He fell in love with one of them.”

“And that’s ridiculous because they are usually dicks?”

“Angels are divine creatures, Dean, they are not meant to _feel._ ” Dean’s words came to his mind; _'Cause the angels – they don't care. I think maybe they just don't have the equipment to care. Seems like when they try, it just... breaks them apart._ He absently wondered if Dean still thought that way, perhaps after everything he would believe that angels can care after all.

“When accused, he blasphemed. He said the light he sees in her soul was brighter than god himself.”

“What? So the gang kicked him out for being too cheesy?”

“He chose banishment.” _You have to choose, Castiel. Us or them…_ “He was given a choice. Us or them…”

Cas took the time Dean stayed silent for observing his features, his eyelashes were sticking together, a drop was making its way down to the tip of his nose, his jaw clenched. He covered his face with hands and slide them through to his hair, a poor attempt to wipe the wet out of his face.

“Why haven’t you?” he asked

“I was ashamed of their appearance.” It sounded so petty now that he put it in words.

“Were they crippled or something?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“So it is okay for us to see you drunk, bloodied or naked, covered in bees but you draw the line at wings”

“You don’t understand… Or maybe I didn’t. We… Angels take great pride in our wings, they are sharp and elegant… Far more sublime than humans projected in their ecclesiology, they are majestic.”

“And yours were..?”

“Stained.”

“Stained? Your wings were… dirty?”

“Marked, they bore the filth of my trip to Hell”

Another unpleasant pause

“What did they look like?”

It has been too long, he almost forgotten… “Ten feet each when unfolded,” he closed his eyes, they were there, spread far into the night “Pitch black in general with little shades of indigo and azurite shine on the edge of feathers, remnants of their light blue original tint. Enchanted carvings reaching between ebony joints… from the softer feathers near the spine to the longer and rougher ones spreading on the edges.”

“They sound beautiful.” Dean whispered. He was now laid back with his eyes also closed shut.

Cas felt himself blushing a little. _No, really, they weren’t. They were hideous and tainted and if he didn’t know he’d lost them, he would never bring them to somebody’s sight. Least of all Dean’s._

“Bet you’re wishing that you had sent me back there when you had the chance, right?” Dean scoffed.

_What did he say?_

Something in Castiel went off road and the next thing he know he was dragging Dean down the hood and banging his back to the door. He pressed him there with his elbow on his neck. He didn’t know he had the power but logic was no longer coping with reality

“Dean Winchester…” he snarled

How could he spurt such reckless words like they’re paltry?

“When I was in doubt for the first time in my entire existence, you were the one who showed me I had a freedom to choose”

He increased the pressure on Dean’s chest even though he wasn’t resisting anymore.

“After I got out of Purgatory, despite all the destruction I’ve caused, you were the one who told me I could find redemption-“

“After I hurt you, after I hurt Sam, irreparably, when I lost everything, all hope and all faith, you, Dean, you made me believe my life worth something”

All he wanted was for Dean to understand, what he means to all these people around him _What he means to Castiel_

“So don’t you _ever_ dare tell me yours means nothing!” _because I would swarm down the hell and back again as many times as it takes if it means having all that you’ve given me_

He loosened his grip and let Dean lower to ground

 

“How can you say that…” he breathed “after the shit I’ve done to you”

Cas smiled to himself and backed away a few steps to give the man a little space “It was not the first torture I had to endure for your sake and I daresay it won’t be the last.”

“And I would have it no other way.” It was dark and the rain was making everything less clear but he observed the pain on Dean’s face leaving its place to confusion. “Why can’t you see? I _always_ choose you.”

Dean didn’t like chick-flick moments. Dean was going to joke and make a pop culture reference Cas wouldn’t understand and was going to find an excuse to go inside. Then Dean was going to forget about this conversation and Cas would have to recite it all over again next time he put himself on the line.

However Dean did none. He took off his jacket and slid it over Castiel’s shoulders, pulled him close to an embrace.

His grip was cautious, as though he was afraid Cas would shatter to pieces with his touch. Cas felt a lump on his throat. When he wrapped his arm around Dean’s back, he relaxed and tightened the hug, buried his face in Cas’ shoulder.

“I didn’t mean any of it, man” he huffed “The only reason I hadn’t flay that bitch alive was because she got you out of purgatory.”

“I know”

“I have forgiven you for… _everything”_ he hitched

Cas was quite sure Dean was sobbing and he was probably crying too. He grabbed on the cloth under his hands hard.

He reluctantly waited for Dean to let go.

He remembered his coming to existence. He was created with everything he had to know, nothing more, nothing less. Affairs of higher ups were not of his concern, unless he was ordered otherwise. He was created as a warrior therefore Gabriel was assigned as his instructor. His appearance was dreadful, all Archangels’ were. But he never thought about that because all he was taught was to respect them, that somehow, he was lower than them. It occurred to him now that Gabriel always seemed a little odd just before he decided to leave, Anna never quite bowed completely. Daniel started to find excuses to stay longer on Earth… This little signs no one noticed, because no one looked.

Humans were enviable, not only because God regarded them higher. Their minds were unobstructed, any thought was free to generate, a completely blank canvas for not only themselves but also their associates and experiences to paint. How alone Lucifer must’ve felt when he noticed none of his brothers shared the longing he had. And Metatron’s devastation, when the warmth of his father left him, how cold and lost he must’ve felt. They were all abnormalities, they were all what God created them to be, to be more _human_ because it wasn’t that they lacked the ability to be human, they simply never thought of it.

He could feel the thump of every heartbeat shared, soaking cloth pressed to his naked chest, hitched breathing of the man between his arms, breeze under his bare feet slicking in dirt, each raindrop sliding from his hair down to his features, little ache his legs were making for standing up for too long… It was dirty and miserable, the incredible and beautiful weight of being alive.

“Great,” Dean pulled back “now you’re gonna get sick.”

“C’mon, lets head somewhere dry.” He patted Cas’ shoulder and got food he brought from the passenger’s seat. Cas followed him to the indoors

“What about your halos?” he asked while he slipped out of his soaked clothes.

“What about them?” Cas also added deans jacket and his sweatpants to the pile Dean left

The naked sight of his body disturbed Dean, he noticed. He made that jaw clench as his eyes traced every bruise he left. Then they were fixed over Cas’ eyes baring that familiar pained look.

When he finally spun on his feet and disappeared behind walls in a rush, returned with two towels a moment later. He threw one at Cas, which he barely caught

“I mean did you walk around with a giant hoop over your head?”

He dried his face and shuffled the tower on his hair then lowered it to scrub his neck and chest.

Cas mimicked his actions, “I didn’t—They can’t be presented physically.”

“And they were all so secret because..?”

“I lost it when I rebelled. They represent an angel’s rank. I was no longer in garrison.”

“Damn. You must’ve looked pretty badass with all your getup.”

“Yes, I could have assumed an intimidating stance when need be.”

“I remember” he chuckled “That all entrance with shadowy wings”

Cas was going to say that his intention back then was more to impress than to intimidate but he silenced by the loud growl his stomach decided to make. He awkwardly looked down to his belly, that haven’t happened for a while.

“Go get dressed, and bring me some clothes too. I’ll heat the meal.” Dean said while he wrapped the towel around his hips.

When Cas returned, Sam was awake, and meals were served. Dinner went rather silent but Dean wasn’t looking as tense, which was a good improvement. He found out the force he earlier felt on his forehead was, in fact, Dean’s hand and that was most likely why he looked so terrified when Cas awoke. Sam also didn’t miss the chance to scold both of them for spending time under the rain when Cas still had a fever

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go back to my beautiful dream.” Sam said before heading to his room “And, Cas, the ointment is on the counter at the bathroom, don’t forget to apply it.”

Well Sam clearly didn’t think this through because two hours later, Cas was still desperately struggling to get the ointment to the right place between his shoulderblades and pain earned by the constant movement of damaged skin wasn’t helping at all.

“Cas you okay, buddy?” came Dean’s voice from the other side of the door.

“Yeah.. I just…” he tried another awkward position resulting in more tension which caused him to hiss in pain. “Dean, I could use a little help actually.”

The leaking shadow of Dean’s footing under the door shifted and only after a few very long second he answered “Cas I’m not sure… I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Yeah Cas understood Dean didn’t want to see him like that, or see him in general for that matter but right now he had to stow his crap and help his friend out because Cas really wanted to get to bed as soon as possible and he really needed to get this done beforehand. “Dean just get in here”. And he did, and he put on that pissed face at the sight and Cas didn’t care.

“Dude they’re bleeding again what have you done?”

“Aside from trying to break my physical boundaries and testing my flexibility…”

“Okay, okay I get it.” He poured a little batticon on a cloth and get behind the ex-angel to clean his wounds. But something was very, extremely wrong… The scent of beer in his breath and the shuffling sound of his cloth… There was something Cas couldn’t really point out making him very uneasy. And when the cloth touched his skin it was cold and made him tense, he didn’t really know why or when he was gripping the sink so tight that his hand hurt and his back was leaning on it. He was hearing his own breathing echoing in his head and his chest was rising and falling hysterically however no air seemed to be making it to his lungs. He focused on Dean, which was Dean, a really worried Dean who was keeping on repeating his name. “Cas! Cas I’m gonna go now. Okay? I’ll leave. I’ll tell Sam to help you out. Cas? I’m going Cas it’s okay. I’m--”

“No.”

He didn’t want to argue about it so he just turned his back and gripped the sink. His eyes followed the reflection of his friend on the mirror, very tentatively, getting back to work.

So long as he kept his eyes on the reflection, the rest of the process went smoothly. Though no more words exchanged between them meantime.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it'll get better, i promise. 
> 
> Also i should inform you that i am doing my research on the net but i am far from educated in the issue of PTSD so, aside from the fact that the story takes place in a universe with vampires and werewolfs, how i reflect the subject on this work will most likely not be accurate.

The second ‘panic attack’ took place two days after. It was a normal day and things seemed to be going fine with Dean trying to bake something that can barely be called pancakes and Sam going through some books. Cas wasn’t paying much attention to the conversation between the brothers, the functions of this coffee making machine was too distracting.

“Are you serious? There are like 100 Green Day songs in your iPod.”

“You have a problem with Green Day?”

“Yeah, starting with that ‘song’.”

Sam straightened up his posture and made his smug face “You mean _I walk a lonely road, the only one that I have ever know—“_

His reciting got cut short by Dean shouting over lyrics of another song to suppress his brother’s

_“I AM A MAN WHO WALKS ALONE,”_

Something in the melody felt strange, Cas thought.

_“AND WHEN I’M WALKING A DARK ROAD,”_

Definitely something was not right

_“AT NIGHT OR STROLLING THROUGH THE PARK”_

Deans dominating voice softened, something almost like a cold breeze and Cas was unable to focus on anything else

_When the light begins to change, I sometimes feel a little strange_

The hand returned to his back, along with the delicate touch of the burning iron, pain felt real but it was faint. The voice however, the voice kept strolling in his brain

_A little anxious when it's dark_

It was barely a whisper now, softly spoken too close to his ear that it sent chills up his spine

_Fear of the dark, fear of the dark_

Something hot was burning his feet, was it the iron, no it couldn’t be, the iron was on his back, wasn’t it. But it wasn’t there anymore, neither was the voice or anything else. Yes, it was the coffee, he must’ve spilt it, but when?

He had found himself curled up in the corner with the shattered cup at his feet. He felt as if he hadn’t breathed for some time and his body suddenly came aware of the situation, making him inhale as much air as his lungs can take.

Sam was few inches away from him, he backend a little when Cas tried to breathe.

“You good?”

He thought he was but it seemed his mind was hardly a reliable source anymore. He decided on keeping this to himself however.

His gaze lingered on Dean, he wasn’t singing anymore, in fact, he seemed to be trying to hide everything about his mouth altogether.

“I’m good.” The confirmed as he tried to rise from the little pool of coffee.

“I spilled the coffee”

“It’s alright man I got it.” Sam tried to reassure but Cas was ’good’ he didn’t need to be coddled. He spilled it, he was going to clean it.

He pushed past Sam and reached for napkin

This time it was Dean interfering “We got it Cas you just drink water and get calm.”

This voice was pissing him of, making him want to kill something or hide somewhere at the same time.

“I can clean a liquid from the floor! I.Am.Fine!”

Okay, so his voice came out a little too loud and shaky than he expected and maybe right now he just wanted to punch a hole in Dean’s skull but neither of this facts was restraining his ability to clean the floor.

“You.Are.Not!”

Dean showed the pan to the sink, its contact with the cold surface caused a high pitched hissing voice.

“I fell, it happens, people sometimes fall when they can’t arrange their footing.”

“Yeah, they fall, they don’t crawl up to a corner and hold their breath to death”

So that’s what happened.

“You are not ‘fine’ Cas, you can’t be ‘fine’ so long as I’m here, I mean you see this face on daily basis how can you be expected to be ‘fine’.”

 _He was right “_ You’re right.” This phantom feeling creeping up to his mind “I probably shouldn’t be around you because right now I really have this urge to flay you alive”

It wasn’t a threat, it was a warning that Cas, as a matter of fact, wasn’t as fine as he had claimed earlier after all.

“Do it!” Dean shouted, like it was everything he was waiting for, this one moment. He grasped at Cas’ wrists, rather harshly and Cas’ poor attempt to restrain himself by clenching his fists gave away in a sudden reflex to push Dean off, like he was a threat. “DO IT, CAS, BEAT ME TO DEATH—“

“I will not harm you!” Cas backed off until he hit the counter

“Punch me, strangle me!—“

“Stop it!”

Dean waved his arms in frustration “…Be angry at me, just do… something…”

“I am angry at you.” Things on his mind would make mountains but the pettiest of them find its way to his lips “You wanted to do those things to me, all this time.”

Dean could have denied it, right there, right then, claim they were all lies of a demon that has been spoken to torture Cas and nothing more. But he deserved the truth, after everything they’ve been through he had the right to know and for once, when Dean spoke, the words were completely free of their bonds “Not like that, Cas… Never like that” he shook his head.

Sam knew, of course Sam knew, Sam knew Dean better than Dean knew Dean. The blue eyed chick from the cheap bar knew, when the name coming from Dean’s mouth wasn’t relatively close to hers and Benny and Meg and Lisa and that one man Dean pulled a one nighter… And now, last but not the least, Cas knew too. To be perfectly honest, Dean never believed it to be something about Cas’ genitals, or colour of his eyes or any other feature Jimmy Novak possessed. He could’ve housed himself in a wendigo and Dean would want to have sex with it. As sickening as it was, it was the truth.

“And how did you want it to be, in a nice and cosy room providing all the required equipment to torture me to your heart’s content?”

“Torture you? I never wanted to hurt you.”

“What exactly did you want ‘not like that’ then?”

Truthfully, when he said ‘those things’ never did it pass Dean’s mind for one second that he could be meaning anything other than rape. It was too absurd of an idea that he would imply Dean had it in himself to bruise the very man he’d die to protect.

Then it hit Dean, and hit him hard, that the man he raped, the man who very recently came to be a ‘male’ had never before experienced any kind of physical intimacy. He made out with a demon with his knowledge from a porn video during which he referred to sex as a true love. And it was very normal that rape part was just another part of the torture, something to inflict pain and nothing else. He probably didn’t even paid much attention to how sex worked between two men. And after that dreadful experience god knows if he’ll ever be able to engage in such act properly.

“Dean?”

Perhaps a cross-roads demon would be willing to make a deal with him to make Cas forget, everything. And in return he’d get his sorry ass back to pit, a win win situation.

“I wanted to have… ahm… sex with you... and stuff. I—I thought you meant that by ‘those things’” _not beating you until you ran out of strength to struggle while I brand your back a pair of mocking wings_

He actually remembered what was going through his mind while he was torturing Cas quite clearly; _Why can’t he just stop struggling,_ he was thinking, _why can’t he see… I’m gonna give him what he lost… He’ll like that… He’ll like pain too, I will make him like it and he will crave for it… I will give it to him… Everything he wants I will grant…_ It was a relief that it happened the way it did, if he got his hands on Cas’ soul in pit… No, there were no point thinking about this now, especially when he had just confessed sexually desiring a ray of light.

Sam was nowhere to be seen. Not that Dean was complaining, last thing he need was for his brother to hear this conversation.

“You never said anything… I would have—” a month ago he would have chosen Dean in a heartbeat, over Chastity, over Meg… they weren’t even a competition, it was always Dean.

“Yes you would but Cas you don’t understand ‘sex’ isn’t another helping hand to a friend, it’s not… You know what? Let’s just forget about it.”

“I know what sex is, Dean.” Cas spat, though he had no idea where Dean was going with this. It did came as a surprise to hear about Dean’s desire for his body, maybe it was obvious, It had come to his attention that Jimmy owned a rather attractive body, but then, Cas knew very little about human expressions to ‘read the signs’. “…So you’re saying… You didn’t want to… get at me for the things I’ve done?”

“Of course not.” Like it was the most obvious thing “Look, I blamed you, I was angry at you, and I forgave you. Remember when we started the apocalypse, let Lucifer loose or tried to bind Death to kill you? We’re not exactly pure as the driven snow either.”

“But you said—“

“I was a demon, Cas. Of course I said anything I knew that would hurt you.”

Cas felt like throwing up, he babbled something about his socks being wet and practically escaped to his room.

Dean was left standing in the middle of the kitchen with only the voice of his own panting to accompany him. The thought creeping to his mind was finally clear, he had to leave.

He needed Cas, he really did. He needed him almost as much as he needed his brother, if not more. But right now, Cas needed him to be gone. He probably shouldn’t even stayed one minute more after Cas awoke. How could he be so selfish to think that there were anything he could do to redeem himself; baking pancakes, doing laundry, dressing his wounds when need be… they were all pitiful efforts Dean hid behind to give himself an excuse to remain by his side.

Therefore he dragged his feet to the narrow hall leading to the bedrooms. Cas’ room was the first to the left, its door was shut, most likely locked. For the briefest second Dean mingled with the idea to knock. But to what end, there were nothing he could say and nothing he was required to do. So he carried on. Next door to the right was his and just as he grabbed the doorknob his attention drifted to the mumbling coming from Sam’s room.

“…Thanks Fen” Dean heard his brother say before the beep signalled the end of whatever conversation he was having. He then dialled a number he had noted to a piece of paper, completely unaware of his older brother watching him.

“Hi Matt… I’m not sure if you remember me, I’m Sam Winchester, from Stanford. I got this number from Fen. I’ll keep it quick…” at this point Dean figured he was left to the voice mail “Very recently a close friend of mine was assaulted, not only sexually. The thing is… Well he is very close to my brother, I haven’t told you guys much about him… The assaulter was a doppelganger and now the different things trigger an anxiety attack. I know I have no right to ask you of this but if you could… I don’t know… Point out few medicines or treatments I would really appreciate it.” He hung up the phone and rubbed his eyes. That’s when Dean decided to come in.

“Fen? Matt?” he asked with the most disturbed face he can pull off.

“Matthew is a mental health professional. He took some consent courses from our section.” Sam explained. Or assumed he did since all Dean understood was some gibberish about university terms and ‘mental health professional’

“So… Now we’re consulting to a head shrink?”

“Psychologist.” Sam corrected “Yeah. We could use a little help.”

“Well good luck with that.” Dean swung on his feet to leave the room “But I’ll be gone”

“To where?”

“Ye old hunting trip Sammy.”

“No you are not.” Sam raised his voice. The sudden change in his tune caught Dean off guard and he turned to explain to his brother how bad his presence was affecting Cas and how he needed to disappear but he was cut short before he managed to spurt a single word out

“I treated his wounds, I know what you’ve done to him. Anyone else would have a heart attack at your sight or even at the mention of your name but the first thing he did when he regained consciousness was to ask for you. I really don’t think he performed that ritual, which might or might not work, in his delicate state just because I asked him nicely. But I don’t need to recite any of this as a proof of how much he cares about you. So you are not going to run. You are not going to find a pathetic excuse to leave him and you are going to sit your ass back to your room until Matt says otherwise.”

Sam’s voice was demanding. So unlike him. He claimed to see every bit of bruise Dean left on Cas, yet he ordered him to stay. Did he really cleaned the cum leaking from Cas’ thighs? Did he spot the purple-green marks Dean’s fingers left on the fragile skin of his ass? Bloodied nails and skinned knuckles? Bite marks and hickeys decorating the dark bruise in the shape of his hand over his throat? What about what Dean felt? Did he know how crazy that blue eyes had driven him? He used to be invincible, he used to be able to destroy the archangel with a flick of his fingers, he used to be able to battle the armies of hell, he used to threaten Dean, but there he was then, a whining and squirming mess begging for release beneath him. Was Sam aware of that too? No, he wasn’t. He thought he knew what went down but he hadn't the slightest idea.

Nevertheless any argument Dean could utter would require a thorough explanation which he was not ready to give. He nodded and left for his room. His only comfort was his utmost belief that no man educated in mental health area would support his presence near Cas.

…

His intention was to leave for his room when he found himself leaning to the first door on the left, again. There were no voice coming from the other side. Cas might be sleeping. It was pretty early though, but if he was suffering half the nightmares Dean was hearing at nights, he would be lacking a good night’s rest.

“Dean?”

Cas stopped just few inches away from Dean, invading his personal space. Just like old times. But there was something not so like old times in this setting. Like Cas being almost completely naked except his waist down covered with a tower wrapped around it, the smell of Dean’s aftershave and shampoo eluding from his skin and a rather big cut newly forming on his chin. _A fierce ex-angel of the Lord and can’t even shave properly_ , Dean thought. “Dean? What are you smiling at?”

His first instinct was to cup Cas’ face and get a closer look to his wound, thankfully he restrained himself before acting on it. “Just… Uhm… Cut.” He circled his chin.

“My hand slipped.” It was partly true. His hand started to shake as soon as he got hold of the razor. It was a miracle he managed to get away with a single cut. He figured Dean didn’t have to know that part.

“Can we talk?” He said while he desperately struggled to look at anything but his half naked wet friend standing too close. Cas reached for the door and gestured him to come in. There were a pile of clothing on the right side of bed, which Cas threw the only coverage he had. So the book on the corner was looking very interesting, yeah, Dean was going to stare at that book because he wasn’t at all interested in the butt-ass naked man whom he very recently admitted sexually desiring.

Just when he contently fixed his glance to the book, at the corner of his eyes he noticed that Cas had stopped moving. Then he dragged his gaze to the figure standing, careful to keep it exclusively at his face

“Do you still want to have sex with me?”

Okay… “What?”

“Do you still want to have sex with me?” he repeated. So sure of himself that whatever boundaries left between them was as good as gone.

“Cas… Look, man—” Was it a trick question? Or a failed erotic dream? Maybe he had died and gone to hell and it was the torture they decided to inflict. Tasteless.

“You did this to me,” Cas opened his arms to expose what little left unseen “least you can do is to look at it.” His voice was firm, angry. Dean couldn’t help but complying, he eyed the man, and everything he had done to him. To be honest he didn’t need a visual evidence, he could recall each millisecond of the unsaid event with his demon-mind’s commentary. Of course he still found him beautiful _–God, Cas…_ he still wanted to trace and mark the pale skin of his neck with his lips _…you look so beautiful…_ slide his hand down to his waist _…so fucking beautiful…_

It wasn’t the demon.

_…For too long I have wondered how your lips would feel like around my cock…_

It was always him.

“Dean?”

Only then he noticed to wetness on his cheek. He shouldn’t be there. He had to leave right now.

“Dean!” Cas shouted after him as he escaped the room and shut his door behind, rather loudly, like a teenage girl.

_…what I desire, is not from you…_

All concentrated force on his body gathered to his fist when he punched the rack of guns he very carefully placed on the wall. The firearms scattered to the floor possibly causing quite a loud clunk. But the only thing that was ringing in his head was the sound of his name, desperately and repeatedly spoken by the sandpaper voice of a broken man.

_…Shhh… It’s okay Cas, let it go. I got you…_

He battled with his throat to keep his pathetic cries in, as he slide down to floor, hiding his face in his palms.


	5. Chapter 5

For the rest of the day, he kept to himself. That is, until Sam knocked the door. First he pretended he was sleeping but then the knocks became more violent and annoying.

“What?”

“It’s Matt, he says he wants to speak with us.”

“Us?”

“Yeah, come to my room.”

He wasn’t completely sure about this all setup. Ever since Cas lost his mojo, Dean would be lying if he said the Castiel Zachariah had so kindly shown to him wasn’t haunting his mind. Sam was with them and Lucifer was well at his cage yet it was quite obvious that the prophecy of this year was heavy upon Cas. Few pounds he had lost were clearly showing, not to mention his sleeping disorders, and the events of the passing days were certainly came as a nice addition to Cas’ fucked up life. So, well, last thing Dean wanted for Cas was pills to mess with his head.

Yet he came to Sam’s room. He lingered a little at the threshold before finally entering the vision of the webcam settled on the desk. He sat next to his brother on the bed.

Matthew wasn’t anything like what Dean expected. He expected a greasy geeky guy with glasses few sizes bigger for his face. Matthew was a bulky Hispanic dude, he did wear glasses, fitting his face and as Dean found out when he started to speak, possessed an intense British accent.

“Good afternoon, Dean. I am Matthew. Delighted to finally make your acquaintance.”

“Likewise” he answered dryly, not knowing what the standard protocol for such formal meeting having made in this informal circumstances was.

“Time is of essence.” Matthew started and lit his cigarette, took a deep breath and continued “Sam filled me in on the basics but it is in my understanding that you’re the closest person to Castiel.” The sentence made Dean uncomfortable, he was being kind using the present tense while he obviously knew ‘closest’ or any variation of the word would no longer apply for their relationship.

“I’ll be asking few quick questions and then ask you to tell me everything you know about the assault—”

“It was recorded!” Dean answered immediately. It was a lame explanation but if he was going to help Cas he needed to tell this guy everything.

“Sam didn’t mention a recording.”

“It’s because he didn’t know. And it is gone.”

He simply replied “Okay.” If he saw through his lies, he didn’t point out “So, questions…”

He put off the cigarette and lit a new one “Some assault victims associate the face of the abuser to close relatives or, in your case, friends. I must ask if that might be the case.”

“No, I mean the son-of-a-bitch really did look like me.”

“Does the attacks trigger by exclusively your actions?”

“It appears so, yeah.”

“Before the event, were you and Cas in a relationship?”

“No!”

“Pardon me, I wasn’t implying anything.” Yeah, right… “What about someone else?”

“So far he’d only kissed a woman, once.” He huffed. He didn’t know how much of his words Matt would choose to believe.

“Okay, that’ll be all. Thank you. Now about the assault…”

Dean asked Sam to leave before telling everything to that very oddly looking man he’d just met. The only reaction he made throughout the story was occasional mods and hums. Just when Dean started to think that he was the one getting threated his story ended.

“I want you to know Dean, I’m not a big fan of medical therapy. But I can’t know if it will come to that until I talk to Castiel. But from what you told me, Castiel sees _you_ as his assaulter so it is best if you keep your distance for a while.”

“I understand. Look, Doc… I don’t tell my best friends greatest secrets to a stranger so you have to… make him better. I can stay away as long as it is needed.”

He left the room to Sam. Off to pack his things. He figured at some point he had to break it to Cas. He couldn’t predict what his reaction would be. Highly possible scenario was that he’d deem it unnecessary and feel bad for forcing Dean out of his own home.

He, very lightly, knocked Cas’ door, hoping he wouldn’t hear it thus prevent this whole conversation.

“Come in.” No luck, then.

The room was clean, the pile of clothes were gone and books were put on the shelves with size order, Cas was lying on his bed, reading the book Dean had used as an escape route earlier. He didn’t bother leaving his gaze at Dean’s approach. He couldn’t imagine any book being so intensely interesting but he waited at the safe six feet distance until Cas finished the page and set the book aside. The unpleasant silence carried on when neither of the parties attempted to engage in a conversation. Dean should be the one to start, he knew that, he had already circled dozens of conversation starters on his head but when they got to his lips, gulped them down.

“Shall I wait for you to run or do you plan to form some sort of verbal sentence?”

Cas had every right to be grumpy. Was he drinking, Dean was sure he smelled alcohol upon his entrance, and, oh, there were the glass of cognac, right beside the bed. And it made Dean so uncomfortable, made his heart hard and heavy. The zombie apocalypse Castiel kept flashing in his mind. As if Cas didn’t have enough problems. Now all Dean had to do was to wait until Cas would get his inscribed medicine, want more, get stoned, participate ever-so-willingly in orgies…

Deep down a silent voice was attempting to sooth him with voiceless words of how it was just a glass of cognac, how it was fine, he should be allowed to drink and how the mocking grin that was unbearably similar to his haunting self was just an unlucky coincidence.

“I thought you hated being drunk. What happened?”

“Life.”

That one single and sarcastically spoken word was all it took for Dean to stroll to the other side of the room and bash the bottle to the wall hard enough to tear wallpaper. Cas hastily jumped off the bed and in panic, tried to put as much space as possible between them “What the hell, Dean?!”

“You tell me?” he shouted, throwing what’s left of the bottle aside “What’s with all this hippie crap, huh?”

“Are you the one to judge me?” he spat back as their voices battled for dominance in the hollow air stuck between walls “We’d soon need crates to throw away empty bottles coming out of your room!”

Words he oppressed for too long spilled uncontrollably “You think you’re the only one, Cas? Only you wake up every night with sweat drip from every pore? You think I’m not haunted by the memories of torturing you? You think I like remembering every single thing I thought while torturing you? Do you really believe that I dislike seeing your body because I find it ugly? It fucking reminds me of every second of it! God, the things I thought about doing to that body. I have to live with them! I have to go to bed every night with them! So don’t you fucking ‘life’ me! You don’t get the right to ‘life’ me!” all his attempt to keep his voice firm and strong was lost when it cracked at the last word, “I made you like that, it wasn’t ‘life’. It was me…”

 

…

 

“Are you a religious man, Castiel?” the man on the computer screen asked.

Cas was told not to hint anything supernatural, Sam briefed him on the thing they had told to the man, Sam’s friend, and he could tell the truth so long as he kept true to them. It was hard, of course, when he was confronted with such question “Why?”

“Your name, I assume it comes from Qafsiel of Kabbalah. One of seven archangels, the Angel of Thursday.”

“I am not and never have been an archangel.”

“Uh… That’s good to know.” He laughed. It somehow made Cas comfortable. He felt he could trust this man, for whatever reason. Even though his tone was ironic and unbelieving he would listen everything he was told until the end.

“Are you are religious man?” Cas asked

“I most certainly am not. My father was Jewish and my mother’s family were Christian, that’s where I get my extended knowledge.”

“But you don’t believe in afterlife?”

Man thought for a moment before answering “I find one lifetime enough for living. Eternity scares me, I don’t find it enticing.” It sounded sincere.

“Those words are the privilege of a happy man.”

“True. Why don’t you tell me about a happy moment, then? A day which made you feel you could live for a lifetime.”

He could think several. He decided to go with the one first appeared in his mind. It wasn’t one of _his_ memories per se, but recalling it certainly made him happy.

“Some time ago I saw a friend I haven’t visited for a while. He didn’t see me, he was cleaning up the autumn leaves, and his lover called from inside. She had baked pie, she wasn’t very good at cooking but Dean loves pie. And he loved Lisa… And he loved Ben. He was very happy.”

“So the happiest moment you can think of is actually Dean’s happy moment.”

Oh he didn’t notice he’d given Dean’s name. “Most of my memories include Dean and Sam.”

“How so?”

“My life before… coming across with them was hardly noteworthy.”

“What changed?”

“They showed me…” he searched for words that could describe his illumination, questions were so simple yet the answers demanded caution. One slip and he could give in all the information he was told not to “…freedom.”

He rubbed his chin before speaking “Freedom… Now that’s an interesting concept, do you think it has served in your favour?”

“Are you asking if I’m glad that I have met them?”

“Not exactly, but since you mentioned it, answer away.”

“In a greater picture, I think freedom haven’t… doesn’t work in my favour. I have sacrificed a lot because of freedom and because of them. But I could’ve chosen otherwise. In conclusion, yes, I am glad I’ve met them.”

“Tell me about your anxiety attacks.”

“They happen randomly, I lose my sense of time and location...”

“Dean triggers them, right?”

“So far.” “But I realised, I can prevent it when I keep my eyes on him.”

“But they will keep on happening and they will get worse.”

“I wasn’t this weak before. I don’t know how to act, it worries them. But Dean had told me I shouldn’t whine. I am not an infant.”

“’Whining’ is a very human way of expressing displeasure, it is usually associated with youth because infants often rely on their elders to fix problems. Until they mature and realise—”

“That some problems can’t be fixed.”

“Precisely. What problems you think in your life that needs fixing?”

“Anxiety attacks.”

“Only them?”

“Dean.”

“Dean is a problem?”

“Yes—No.”

“Yes? No?”

 

…

 

“You are leaving…” Cas whispered as the realization sank in. Dean’s hesitation to respond and the clench of his jaw was answer enough. “You can’t.” he squinted like he was trying figure out the purposes of something as mundane as a screwdriver.

Every single explanation he rehearsed standing at the other side of the door was lost between his lips, Dean shook his head as it was the only response he could give.

“Please, Dean,” He strolled to the elder Winchester’s side “You said you needed me,” He knew he was being unfair, and sounded desperate. He was desperate. He grasped the collar of his shirt “I am here Dean, you said you needed me” he cried, shaking the man “Don’t leave me.”

It was ironic how he always found himself in this position, begging to Dean, begging him for forgiveness, begging him for release, begging him to stay…

 _Just for once stop trying to fix things for others and have something for yourself_ was the first thing Dean said after Cas told him about Metatron’s betrayal. He had been expecting many things when he had dragged his feet back to the bunker, no mojo, no tricks… a friendly advice wasn’t one of them.

 _I can’t have the thing I want for myself_ was the immediate thought that flashed in his mind back then. But now, now the things were different, what he wanted for himself was standing in an arms distance but not for much longer, he was going to leave, for god knows how long. He had been scared and uncertain for too long, and he lost his chance. The feeling was soothing in a way, like the second he let go in purgatory, or when he walked into that lake, it was the feeling of having nothing to lose. And it was relaxing.

He could blame alcohol later, for what he did next. He shoved the man to wall and clashed their lips. Kissing was another human gesture Cas couldn’t wrap his head around before, it was an odd thing to desire, but, God, it felt so good, Dean tasted _so goo_ d. Surprised gasp was the only reaction the man managed to perform before Cas took it as an invitation and deepened the kiss. How the hell did he learn to kiss like that anyways? Dean’s mind had went blank with the taste of cognac and his friend dominating all his senses. He clenched at the ex-angel’s arm to maintain his balance, which, for a moment made Cas fear that he was going to push him away.

Dean was uncertain about whether to take control in this situation, and he was _more than fine_ with rolling with whatever Cas would decide. At that point, he feared he’d want throw himself off the highest cliff if he allowed himself to think. And just when ‘living’ had begun to look much more interesting.

Cas’ hands pinning him to the wall soon softened and moved to grab his face. Sadly, before it became anything close to satisfying, they were both overcame by their need to breathe. Cas pulled away first, he shifted his weight to the other leg to allow Dean down, but Dean didn’t let go. Cas’ breathing was uneven, his lips were formed into a thin line, his gaze was frantically moving between Dean’s eyes in confusion and Dean was quite sure his hands were trembling, he was nervous. Comforting wasn’t one of Dean’s strong suits and his mind was in a haze. He tentatively dragged the hand on his arm to rest behind Cas’ head, slowly pushing it to meet their foreheads. It was a small reassurance but Dean hoped it’d get the message through. They stood abruptly tangled onto the wall, breathing each other’s air.

“Dean,” Cas breathed out when his nerves soothed enough “I need…” his words hung in the little air trapped between their lips. Dean gingerly brushed Cas’ hair with his hands “Yeah, babe? What do you need?”

Cas’ eyes, which were fixed on the floor slowly followed Dean’s form to meet his eyes. He wasn’t quite sure what it was that he wanted. It was hard to pinpoint the exact desire awakened within him with the heat elevating from his groin mixed with alcohol clouding his judgement “…more”

“Okay.” ‘Okay? _Okay?_ Is the healthy response that should be given in a situation as this?’ Dean thought while gently placing and arm between them and pushing Cas to rest his back on the wall

‘No, he should have said something along the lines of ‘No babe what you need is to sober up’’ Of course Dean had noticed the bulge building on his friend’s jeans and took pleasure in knowing it was him who caused it, and apparently after everything, his shamelessness knew no boundaries. Cas wasn’t the only one needing more, he’d only tasted the ex-angel’s lips so far yet he was already intoxicated by the experience. He dropped to his knees and waved off the Cas’ objection.

He placed his hands on Cas’ hipbones and slid them up, dragging the shirt along.

However, soon as the contact, Cas went incredibly still, his muscles tensing under the touch. _A fuckdozen of fucks, if this somehow backfires it’ll be the biggest fuck-up in the history of fuck-ups_ Dean mentally scolded himself “If at any point you want me to stop, you say it. Got it?”

Cas looked down to the man, lost and confused, maybe even a little afraid. Dean wondered if he got the hint yet. How do you explain something like this to a grown ass man, he wondered. _Hi, hello Castiel I’m inches away from your throbbing cock, I will suck it maybe._ No that wouldn’t do, dirty talking wouldn’t work with him either, it was hard enough explaining him the usage of the word ‘baby’ or ‘babe’. He mouthed ‘trust me’ and the little nod of permission he received would have to be enough.

Dean caressed the skin under his hands, his eyes marvelled at the sight laid before him, lean hipbones that must’ve fashioned by the god himself for Castiel, skin not as tanned as Dean’s, soft and smooth and so fucking sensitive that one could observe every blush left by the silkiest caress. It was perfect in every aspect. And to think that only the little skin exposed of his pelvic area was causing Dean to lost his mind.

He placed his lips on the belly button, circled his tongue around it and traced the thin line of pubic hair down, painfully slow. He worked with the zipper, pulled the jeans down. They were Dean’s, he had lent them to Cas when he had arrived at the bunker with nothing but his bloodied dirty holy tax-accountant gear to wear. 

Cas still kept the tees and jeans he borrowed from Dean, didn’t indulge in the idea of buying his own. Dean thought they looked two sizes too big for him, especially after all the weight he lost. They were doing great injustice to his perfectly shaped pelvis and thighs, which Dean was running his hands on right now. Cas shivered and when Dean traced a finger over the line of bruises, he let out a quiet whimper. Dean nuzzled his erection with his nose, over the thin line of fabric, which was already slicking a little. He tentatively moved his teeth along the bulge and nipped at where the fabric met the skin. Holding it between his teeth, he dragged the boxers down. Cas hissed in relief when his erection finally met the open air.

 

It had been a while, a while as in about fifteen years, since the last time he sucked a guy off, not that he had been very skilled back then but he certainly had been bolder and cared very little about the other party, compared to his situation with Cas. The boy was a high-schooler, Dean shoved off few bullies bothering him. Guy didn’t look like a ‘stupid fag’, in fact contrary to what he had used to believe back then, he was quite a character that is not usually associated with homosexuals. He was in the football team and had the head of the cheerleaders, the popular blond chick as his girlfriend. Rumour had it that he couldn’t get it up and of course everybody assumed he must be gay. It was the first and last, until now, blowjob he gave and well, let’s say Dean’s lips did a fair job helping him with his issue.

 

The sight before him was nothing like he remembered from that boy, or any men he'd been with since then. He appreciated the male features, maybe not as much as female’s, he preferred to have something to grab and squeeze, the more the merrier, but enjoyed his time with men all the same. Cas however, Cas was something completely different. His pinkish cock was about the same size as Dean’s, only a little more slender. There was this beautiful vein reaching through his length that Dean just couldn’t wait to trace his lips along. He wanted to get on with it so bad, just the thought of it was mouth-watering. But not yet, he was going to take his sweet time, make every second count. He knew it’d be worth the wait, Cas would be worth the wait.

So he toyed with the area around his crouch. Nibbled and sucked the sensitive skin, leaving few marks, giving thorough attention to everywhere but the one place seeking it, until Cas left gasping and whimpering in frustration, he was humping the air desperately. He looked so hot like that, lost his control and usual stiffness. And Dean would complied if he just gripped his head and fucked his face like he owned the man. But Cas wouldn’t do that, of course.

Dean slid his palm to rest on the ex-angel’s ass and extended his thumbs over the hipbones to keep him still. He licked his lips, leaned in, licked along a line from scrotum to the head, trailing that vein and sucked pre-cum gathered at the tip. He looked up to his friend for approval, instead he saw him looking somewhat lost with his head pushed back and hands pressed tightly over his lips. Now he couldn’t have that, half the fun was hearing him, and if the voices Dean managed to rip out so far was anything to go by, it’d be a blast.

He pulled back. Stretched his arms to touch Cas’ elbows and gestured them down, trailing his palms along the arm to grasp his hands and guide them to his hair.

“I might need some guidance” he explained jokingly before getting back to the matter at hand. This time, he kept his gaze on the man above and observed each muscle in his neck tighten, jaw drop down as a loud moan pierced from his lungs when Dean closed his lips around the head and slid down. He tried to take in as deep as he could but the sensation was to unfamiliar. Good thing he was familiar with the subject and it didn’t take him more than few tries before he relaxed himself and evened his movements thus allowing him to take in the entire length. It wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable as he had anticipated and the sweet noises was reward enough to make him forget any discomfort. Cas’ hands tightened their grip, he wasn’t pushing but it was quite obvious that it was taking all that’s left of his self-control not to. Dean’s own erection was restless trapped his pants, although he was in no state to service himself he was beginning to think that the gruff moans and shaky breaths with an occasional few syllables resembling his name coming from the ex-angel would be enough to throw him off the edge.

When he felt Cas was close, he loosened his hands keeping him in place, Cas took the invitation and assumed control, it was slow and steady at first, they somehow found a rhythm. But it didn’t take long before Cas crossed his limit and started to pound relentlessly into Dean’s mouth. For few more seconds their moans mixed in tune of flesh and sucking, then Cas threw his head to the wall and ached his back in a one last thrust, released his load buried deep in Dean’s throat with a groan loud enough for anyone, say, sleeping in the room across the hall to hear.

Dean swallowed it instinctively. He wrapped his arms around Cas’ hips and held his friend through aftershock, his body gone limp and barely standing by resting his weight on the wall. He licked the little cum left on the flaccid cock and got back to his feet, dragging Cas’ clothing along, tugged them quickly. He’d like to sit and chat but his previous position had made his legs gone numb and the hardness in his pants had reached the level of being painful. Nevertheless he spared a glance at the ex-angel before him, from the lips reddened from getting bitten up to the flushed cheeks and to the eyes that captivated him in an instant in their cloudy blue. He vaguely traced a finger along the strong jawline before making his way to the door.

Only, he couldn’t. He was held by a strong hand gripping his arm.

“You have an erection.”

 _Oh really? Dean had no idea_ “No shit, Sherlock.”

Cas squinted a little at the pop culture reference but shook off the confusion “Let me help.”

Dean cocked a brow at the request and considered it…

“It’s okay I’ll just get a shower.” He took another step to the door.

“Would you like me to accompany you?” Cas jumped in, now found his strength to stand.

“What? No!” Dean didn’t meant to come off as harsh, he was just caught off guard by the sudden offer that he’d never thought he'd hear from Cas. “I mean I got this, it’s ok.”

“Don’t leave.” it wasn’t a plea this time.

“I’ll just make quick work of this and come here.”

Dean was aware of the weight carried in Cas' words. It wasn’t the answer Cas was looking, still he loosened his grasp and allowed the man to make his escape.


End file.
